


(what's left?)

by amiavegetable



Series: a supplementary story [2]
Category: Pentagon (Korean Band), Triple H (Band)
Genre: Blood, Changing POV, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Red - Freeform, Theft, mv stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-29 03:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10845390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiavegetable/pseuds/amiavegetable
Summary: "Where are we going?“Hui’s window frames a gray sky. The earth tilts left. The question - for a second, they all seem to hold their breaths, as if they were one. Where are they going, really? Where do theywantto go?"South“, Hyuna says eventually.





	1. zero, one

**Author's Note:**

> i watched the [mv](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gPQenyj1nI) the day before my math final if i failed u know who to blame

Sometimes, for something big to happen, a few smaller things have to meet first. A butterfly, another, and a storm. A boy, a girl, a boy. A body, a car, and an empty street.

In the moment the car hits the body there are two thoughts in the front seats. The one behind the steering wheel, not too out of the usual: _fuck._ The other, on shot-gun: _this makes two in one night._

  
   
Hui stomps his entire weight on the brake. The car jerks to a halt with a shriek, but it’s too late, he knows it’s too late because he felt the car hit the body as if it were part of himself.

The girl chokes out a strangled noise. "Did we kill him?“

Hui peers over the steering wheel. It’s fucking big, wider than he’s used to and with more fancy consoling shit on the spokes between two and ten. His grip around it is draining his knuckles white.

The boy lies in the middle of the intersection, his limbs all twisted up but without a trace of blood. Like this, he doesn't look human, his strings cut.

So this is it, huh, he thinks, dazed. Upgraded from scammer and thief to someone who killed somebody, hit them with a stolen car no less. From 0 to 100 real quick.

"Wait“, the girl says, "I think he-“

The lights change from green to yellow-red. The boy lifts an arm and slowly staggers to his feet.

"Shit.“ The girl unfastens her seatbelt and steps out of the car to get a better look.

"What the _fuck_ -“, Hui mutters and pushes out of the car, reaches the boy with a few angry strides. He looks very much alive, except for his unfocused eyes maybe, but nothing seems further away than to check the signs of a concussion right now. "You fucking asshole, what were you thinking-“

"Hey!“, he registers the girl yelling behind his back as his fist connects with the boy’s face, shoving her away when she tries to block his swing. Red floods his vision. For a second, he feels like laughing. If anyone could see him right now, him, med student and pride of his parents, shoving girls and beating up total strangers in the middle of the street.

The boy coughs up a laugh, wet with blood. "Giving back what you got?“

His blood-shot eyes flit over Hui’s crusty nose. Hui loosens his grip. "Fuck you“, the boy spits with new-found force and stumbles away.

Hui straightens up and looks at the boy’s retreating back, struggling to keep up right, one hand clutched at his side. The fight drains out of him like water out of an open faucet.

"You shouldn’t have done that“, the girl says, returning back to his side. He looks at her, at the veil of freckles dusting her cheek, watches them dance as she opens her mouth to call out. "Hey!“

The boy turns. His face matches Hui’s, a split lip and a bruised eye. _Do you like that?_ , a voice rings in his head. A phantom blow to his nose, pain exploding behind his eyes. Guilt pools in his stomach.

"Get in“, he snaps, turning on his heel without waiting for an answer. The strings around him pull tight.

  
   
It's the zenith of the night and a boy steps out of an elevator, the metal doors sliding shut behind him. He’s dressed in slacks and an expensive-looking shirt, and his face looks like it’s taken a beating, blood drying in crusts under his nose. He quickly scans the parking level, then saunters over to one of the more remote parking sections.

The car is all white, a bit too flashy for his liking. Brand new as well, and if it weren’t so ironic he’d entertain the thought that this could be his work. A car, new, clear of all traces, parked inconspicuously.

But it isn’t his work, sadly, and if it were he wouldn’t be so careless showing his face around a place probably wired to the brim like this. Maybe they even pay someone to guard the CCTV. The thought thrills him.

The metal of the key ring is cool on his skin. He’s never actually seen anyone do the dangling keys from their fingers thing in real life, but that doesn’t mean he can’t give whoever will be watching a show. His reputation is shot to shit anyway. He will go down, and he will do it in style.

He starts the engine. It’s all about getting a head start now.

 

"What are your names?“

The question breaks through the surface of the mounting silence in the car, floating from the backseat and settling between the three of them like an unwanted guest. The not-dead boy has a drawl stuck to his words, and Hui finds himself thinking once again that he should really check him for signs of a concussion.

He doesn't.

"Hui“, Hui says when the question starts tapping its foot with impatience. "My name’s Hui.“ It’s not, but he might as well get used to it.

"Hyuna“, the girl says. She’s been leaning her head against the window, one elbow propped up as if to become one with the night flickering past them. Hui shoots a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She’s smart, it’s a name unusual enough that it could be both, her real name or one she made up.

"Nice“, the boy in the back says, "I’m Hyojong.“

Hui's eyes snap up to the rearview mirror. The boy, Hyojong, seems impassive. He doesn't care, Hui realizes, they could be axe murderers for all he knows but he doesn't care. It aggravates him somehow, knowing that he has the luxury to think like that.

"Where are we going?“

Hui’s window frames a gray sky. The earth tilts left. The question - for a second, they all seem to hold their breaths, as if they were one. Where are they going, really? Where do they _want_ to go?

"South“, Hyuna says eventually.

-

They drive until the night fades.

As soon as they’ve left the city, the car follows the street as if pulled by a string, the ride smooth and without bumps. If Hui concentrates hard enough, he can pull his field of vision slim, fade out Hyojong’s too-loud breathing on the backseat and the tickle of red hair on his shoulder that silently connects Hyuna’s skin with his. Until everything he sees is just his own fingers cramped around the steering wheel and the endless, dusty road ahead.

It’s like driving directly into the sun. Bright, hot, _fast_. Hui watches the speedometer stagger to the right, closer to the 100. Speeding into the sun wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. He can feel Hyuna tense at his side.

"You’re going too fast“, he hears the drawl again right next to his ear, much closer than he anticipated. His fingers slip a terrifying second, the car jerks. Hyuna lets a displeased sound slip at the seatbelt digging into her neck.

"Jesus“, he hisses, turning his head right in time to see Hyojong pull back his, his face expressionless save for the tiny smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. Fucker.

"What’s your deal, huh?“

Hyojong leans back completely, smirk gone. In the harsh light of the early morning, the angles of his face have sharpened. It nips at something in Hui’s brain like a mad dog. "You asked me to join“, Hyojong says, voice flat.

Hui grits his teeth. I didn’t, he thinks, _she_ did.

"Hui“, Hyuna says from the front seat, voice tight. "Eyes on the road.“

Fuck you, Hui tells the road. Fuck both of you.

In the backseat, Hyojong starts humming off-key. Hui sulkily keeps his head straight ahead, but he thinks he can sense Hyuna move slightly to shoot Hyojong a raised eyebrow over her shoulder, neither of them says anything.

The speedometer climbs to 120. "By the way“, Hyojong pipes up again when the outer edges of the road start blurring. "We’re running low on gas.“

The sun is a star, over a hundred million miles away. Hui slowly takes his foot off the gas pedal, the road snapping back into this dimension. He feels a little dizzy, suddenly.

"So“, he says, taking a deep breath. "Does anyone have money?“

Hyojong snorts. Hyuna shrugs. "You’re the one dressed in silk.“

"That doesn’t mean shit“, Hui grits out between his teeth. Their indifference is riling him up; somehow the stakes are still high for him but not for them. Having them here in his car is an inconvenience at best. The thought makes him feel antsy and strangely left out.

A cool hand presses to the back of his neck. "Got any suggestions?“, Hyojong drones, head squeezed between Hyuna and his seats. He’s looking at neither of them, but it’s clear whom he’s talking to. "You're the one who stole this car.“

Hui doesn’t.

Hyuna puts her feet up on the console. She wears her indifference more resolutely than Hyojong, and for a second Hui sees red again, smeared all over her pale skin as if to color her in. Her voice is wiped clean of emotion. "Then we’re screwed, aren’t we?“  
 

_What do you say to the pretty girl sitting next to you with blood all over her hands?_

Do you

A) try to make small talk, ignoring the fact that it’s almost morning and the streets are swept empty by the late hour and this whole yellow-lit situation is about as far from normal as possible?

B) say nothing, instead opt to sneak glances at her neck and bare collarbones, where splatters of blood have gathered to distort a perfectly fine constellation of freckles?

C) say nothing, instead wordlessly hand her a towel you found in the console earlier when you were looking for something to clean your own messed up face with?

The answer is C). Obviously.

 

Hui kills the engine at a pit stop a few minutes down the road, hooks his fingers in the door handle, and steps out of the car before the silence between them can get too loud. There he stands, his eyes on the dusty flicker of the road, unchanged. His back to the car.

Hyuna follows. Her door clicks and swings open more casually than his, he imagines her slowly stretching out her legs and then her arms, followed by her head and shoulders. Her limbs pale and fragile in the gleaming light of day. (He turns. She is a composition of red, her hair stark against her skin, her freckles almost protruding in this washed-out wasteland, her hands scrubbed pink. There’s blood sticking to her sneakers. His face feels warm.)

Hyojong is last, getting out of the car and slamming his door with an ugly force. Hui watches him shrug out of his cardigan, watches what he thinks might be a tattoo flash with the movement of his bared shoulder. Like he does not have a worry in the world, he drapes his back against the white metal shell of the car next to the door Hyuna left open.

And there they stand, stand, and sit, restless minds wound tight and still until Hui’s eyes start hurting.

 

But apparently, this is not all the universe has in store for them - maybe they just weren't meant to have their story close like this, at a dead end unspectacularly retreated from everything pulsing with life and demanding to be heard.

Maybe they were meant to be heard.

"Holy shit“, Hui mutters. "Guys? Come here, c’mon, quick.“

At his call, Hyuna rises from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at her nails. Her hair falls over her shoulder like a shaggy curtain when she leans forward to peer into the trunk. "Oh“, she says.

Hyojong appears at Hui’s other side like a dog. His shoulder and everything his tank leaves free to see is irritated red, from the heated metal of the car Hui realizes a beat late.

_What do you do when you find one billion won in cash in the trunk of your stolen car?_

Do you

A) zip up the bag with the cash, put it in the front of the car, drive all the way back to the city and deliver it securely to the police?

B) close the trunk, wipe all surfaces clean of fingerprints and get the fuck out of here before they realize you had anything to do with how the car got to a pit stop just off the road south from Seoul?

C) stare at the heap of cash piling in neat little packets of 50000s until you’re dizzy from the sheer amount of _luck_ you have?

Hui closes the trunk, feeling a smile creep onto his face. An incredulous laugh escapes Hyuna’s lips, a gasp for oxygen of someone breaking through water. A clock springs to life in the back of his mind, but he's too full of air to pay attention to its incessant ticking.

To his left, Hyojong sets a hand on the side of the trunk and leans forward, his head hanging low and a loose arm flung over Hui’s shoulder. A mad smile decorates his face.

"Welcome friends“, he rasps. "Welcome on the fucking run."

 

C) ( _cont_.) Do you go sit back in the driver’s seat of the car you stole and let your sidekick stand close to you while he laughs an airy laugh at your other sidekick spinning circles with her arms stretched out like a kid? Because that’s what you are, aren’t you? You’re in this together now and doesn’t it feel good, doesn't it feel _so_ _good_ to finally belong somewhere.

Hui smiles, and his face hurts more than when he took the blow to his nose not even twelve hours ago.

The answer is C). _Obviously_ it’s C).

-

  
"So what do you want?“, Hyojong asks, his eyes hidden beneath his stupid bucket hat. His breath smells of Sex on the Beach.

Hui leans closer. "I want to jump into the fucking sun“, he says, voice light.

Hyojong grins. "Cool“, he says against Hui’s jaw. "Count me in.“


	2. two

Answer D):

The club reeks of alcohol and puke. It’s downright shabby, too: there’s a pool table littered with half-full and empty bottles and they didn’t even bother to put the torn posters back up to the unrendered brick walls. Above all though, it’s packed, filled to the brim with human bodies and the smell of sweat and smoke. Hyuna remembers the glitzy details on her new skin-tight skirt and smiles.

The air on the dance floor is heavy, its weight settling on her like a second skin. She might be on a mission, but going clubbing is all about having fun. This entails mainly three things:

 **1.** The alcohol bites at the insides of her throat, settles in her stomach with a warm, pleasant swoop. Next to her, Hui pulls his face into a shuddery grimace. "Pussy“, Hyojong remarks and downs his own shot in one go, keeping his face straight.

"Fuck you“, Hui huffs and narrows his eyes. "Are you even of age?“

Hyojong leans forward and narrows his eyes back. "Are you?“

Hyuna feels a laugh bubble its way up her chest, carried by the alcohol in her body. They’re all up in her space, in each other’s space too, and she’s reaching for them, her left hand gripping onto Hyojong’s shoulder and the fingers of her right curled into Hui’s collar.

"Don’t fight“, she says, trying to keep her voice from folding itself into something unmistakably fond. Her left hand slips from Hyojong’s shoulder to his back, gently pushing him back towards the dance floor. Her right hand wraps around Hui's nape.

She pulls them close. They let her.

 **2.** She keeps them in her space. Even if the background is a little more sticky and cramped than in any cloudy dreams, that just means it can only get better.

"What _is_ this shit“, Hui swears and lifts one of his feet off the ground. Hyuna feels that laugh again, this time slipping right out of her mouth before she can try to stop it and then maybe come to the conclusion that she doesn’t really _want_ it to stop.

He looks up from the floor at the sound of her laugh, his eyes huge and slightly unfocused; they catch somewhere next to where her store-fresh dangling diamond earring meets her collarbone. He's cute like that, all loosened up and ridded of his frown. Hyuna smiles despite the rough surface of the cabinet wall digging into her back.

Hui leans forward and drops a kiss on her lips. His mouth is soft.

He pulls back with a grimace. "Thanks“, Hyuna deadpans. "The walls are gross“, he explains.

She leans away from him, to spite him maybe, purposely presses herself into the wall. Her head swims. "Pretty sure the shit on the floor is Hyojongie’s booze“, she says lightly.

Hui’s lips tighten at the nickname. "Can’t he leave his booze somewhere else?“

She puts a hand on his chest, to feel his heartbeat or to push him away, she isn’t sure. "Can’t you leave your petty ego somewhere else?“

There might be actual hurt flickering over his features. She steps over the puddle of red stuff (everything is red in this light) and leaves the cubicle anyway.

 **3.** "The walls in here are gross“, Hyojong slurs, his head tilted back so far it's probably messing with his pipes.

"You guys are all the fucking same“, Hyuna says, her back pressed against one and her feet against the other (gross) wall. Hyojong lifts his head. "What?“

"Nothing. Have you seen Hui?“

"Nope“, he says, his back sliding down against the closed toilet seat. "Last I saw of him he was leaving this bathroom, looking like someone pissed in his drink or something.“ He considers this, arms hanging limp at his side. "What’d you do to him?“

"He kissed me. I pushed him away.“ Hyojong stays silent.

"Not because I didn’t want him to“, she tells the phone number scribbled to the tiles above her left foot. It looks foreign. An American number, maybe.

Hyojong knits his brows together. "I’m not following.“

"Forget it.“

They fall back into silence. Music from the dance floor wavers through the door leading to the bathrooms. It doesn’t close properly, Hyuna noticed when her shirt caught on the handle the first time she made her way in here. She imagines Hui taking another shot with that frown on his face.

"I think I’m going to throw up“, Hyojong announces.

 

1,2,3, it’s all there. Clubbing is fun, all side effects included. Clubbing when you have _money_ , however-

"Alright, alright, friends!"

Hui gives her a leg-up, and up she is, on the pool table, overseeing the backyard ocean of heads and shoulders and arms. A wave goes through them, a wave of faces turning and blinking up against the lights to see her. She took off her glaring red stilettos before climbing onto the table, but she feels the sense of power that comes with towering over everyone else nonetheless. The ghost of a hand on the back of her thigh wraps around her mind for a split-second, a quiet waft of understanding just beneath her fingertips. It’s gone with a blink.

The surface under her feet shakes when Hyojong hoists himself up on the table. She clears her throat. "The rules-“

"There are rules? Just fucking go have fun, yeah?“ A few people gathered around the table cheer. Hyojong grins at her. The cracked skin of his lip stretches manically.

The table shakes again. "This is like in the movies“, Hui says, a bit unsteady on his feet. He blinks. "Am I really high or is it raining money?“

Hyojong drops his now empty bucket hat on Hyuna’s head, draping an arm around Hui’s shoulder. "Hell yeah, it is“, he says. Hyuna adjusts the hat. Somewhere on the outer edge of her frayed mind she thinks that she likes the way it blocks the view to her face. It’s a perfect thing for liars.

"And hell yeah, you are", Hyojong adds as an afterthought, leaning into Hui's side. Pulling Hyuna with him.

For the rest of the night, the money keeps raining, bills fluttering and cascading and slowing down to an almost still fixture in the air, sharp and worthwhile against the blurring lines of bodies moving to the music. Hell yeah.

 

Side effects of clubbing include: possible tension in a group of three. A hangover to forget about the tension. Greasy breakfast at a fake-American diner to cure the hangover; a simple threeway formula to solve the situation.

Even if they never get that far.

The diner is empty when they walk in, save for a vaguely scared-looking barista wiping off tables in the back of the room. The room is filled with booths, lined with seats striped in white and red. There are blue and white stars drawn on the walls next to some Marilyn Monroe posters and a few old license plates, in case anyone didn’t get the implication. There’s a red banner hung above the empty bar.

"Taste the feeling“, Hui reads, accent thick and horribly tacky. "Classy.“

"So what do we want? Waffles? Pancakes? What else is typically American?“

Hyojong scrunches his nose. "Fries. Coke?“

"We can just get all of it“, Hui says confidently. Hyuna rolls her eyes. "Okay, you environmentalist.“

Hui raises an eyebrow at her, the question _who hurt you?_ written all over his face in mocking letters. She averts her gaze. She's wearing Hyojong's hat from last night, but somehow it doesn't quite seem to cut it this time.

"Hey“, Hyojong says later, his mouth stuffed with potato mash. "Hey, look, it’s us.“

They’re playing the news on the tiny screen hanging above their heads. A reporter is shown in front of the BOK building in Jung-gu, her face blank and perfect for the cameras.

_"-investigation is still unsure about the suspects, as the monitoring system was effectively interrupted. However, this gives us the possibility to determine a time frame in which the heist has most likely taken place-“_

Hyojong reaches for Hyuna’s coke. "So we robbed a bank“, he says, cracking the can. "Nice.“

Hyuna reaches over and snatches the can out of his hands. "We didn’t rob a bank.“

He pulls his hand back. "We have the money though.“

Hyuna stills. He's right, they do. They have the money, a billion won give or take, in cash. In the back of their stolen car. It would be funny if it weren’t so absurd.

"We can’t give it to the police“, Hui says, suddenly serious. His fingers are fiddling with his sleeve. "We have too much dirt on us.“

Hyojong leans back. "I don’t“, he says. "I tried to kill myself, s’not a crime. You’re in for car theft and what, academic misconduct? That’s no biggie either.“

Hui rolls his eyes at his lackadaisical attitude. "It’s more than that“, he says. "I pissed off some people, okay? Some powerful people. Also, we could all get busted for drug possession.“

"Who said anything about giving it back in the first place?"

Hui stills, averts his eyes. A muscle flinches in his jaw.

The can sits untouched in Hyuna’s still hands. Hyojong reaches out again and clacks his nails against the aluminum. "Alright, since we just established that we’re all criminals, what about you? What did you do?“

Hyuna bites down on the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste floods her mind with images, the hand wrapped around her thigh, the strange dent in the back of the man’s skull, all the red blood sticking to her hands. Her gaze flickers to Hui, who isn’t looking at her. His shoulders have gone rigid.

"Something worse“, she says curtly.

Hyojong tilts his head, eyes flitting between her and Hui. Something that might be jealousy colors his face. "Okay“, he says finally, voice clipped. "Then we’ll just have to make sure they never catch us.“

-

At the bar, Hyuna turns her head and presses a firm kiss to Hyojong’s lips. Hui squeezes between them and shoots her a bewildered look.

"What?“, she shrugs. "I didn’t want him to feel left out.“


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy june y'all

They find the abandoned building just off the highway, as part of a group of skeletal estates bleached white by the blazing sun. Once the engine is dead and they're out of the car, once the gravel has stopped crunching under their eager feet and their breaths have slowed down, it's as if the entire world has gone silent.

The building they choose is the most intact, and once they're inside it becomes apparent that it could also be habitable. In fact, it seems as if the previous residents just up and left the place, in too much of a hurry to take anything except for what they had on their bodies.

The first room they enter is dim and cluttered like a flea market place, the sunlight filtered red through the dusty curtains. It looks bizarre, out of this world almost. Hyojong looks at their little group of misfits and thinks they fit right in.

 

Sometimes Hyojong wonders what it’s like to not stare at the back of two heads but at the open road instead, to see the sky and the sun instead of red and faded pink, Hyuna and Hui, two silhouettes in the golden light of the late evening. What it feels like to not feel restless, all the time, and feel that restlessness buzzing everywhere, in his head and his chest and guts and fingertips.

He wonders if he feels that tidal force pushing against his ribcage because he is being pulled, not only forward but to the right and left too.

-

Hui is sitting by himself, his brows furrowed at an invisible spot on his hands. His hair is still wet from the shower, the collar of his stretched-out white shirt damp. Hyojong looks at the curve of his back and thinks of his suggestion to return the money, of the shadows under his eyes and the way his shoulders went stiff and haven't seemed to relax since. The look he shared with Hyuna as if they both know something that Hyojong doesn't.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hui jumps. The frown slips off his face as his eyes widen almost comically, he looks so spooked Hyojong feels almost sorry for a second. "Chill", he says, moving closer. "'S just me."

Hui nods and averts his gaze. Hyojong bites his lip, following the line of his profile with his eyes. The shower has done him good, removing the last remaining crusts of dried blood on his face. It's also removed any possible balance to the dark bruises under his eyes, stark against the unhealthy pale of his skin.

Hyojong clears his throat. He's not good at this, but for Hui he can try. "Tell me", he says.

Hui startles as if he's already forgotten about Hyojong's presence in the room. "What?"

"Tell me", Hyojong repeats, leaning back against the couch. It sags beneath his weight. There's a good two feet distance between them, enough to fit another person there and for a moment he wants to reach over and put his hand at Hui's nape, wants to card soothing fingers through his damp hair.

As if he's sensed his thoughts, Hui leans forward, elbows on his knees. "About what?"

"What's in it for you." He makes a vague gesture up and down Hui's front. "Why you're so… tense."

Hui huffs out a laugh. "Why I'm so tense? We're in for the biggest bank robbing case in over a decade, which we didn't even commit- Why are _you_ so relaxed?"

He's looking at Hyojong now, his body angled towards him. Hyojong wonders what he sees when he looks at him, if he sees a fuck-up. If he sees a person or a corpse.

"I don't have anyone", Hyojong offers simply. "That's why it's easy for me."

Something flares red across Hui's cheeks. He visibly deflates. "It's not that", he mumbles. "You're right, there's more in it for me, but it's not because- because I _miss_ someone or anything."

He laughs again, a little helplessly this time. "As I said, I pissed off some powerful people, and they're most likely coming for me. And they don't even know we have the bank money."

He's standing now, his face still flushed, his hair even more disheveled than before. The side of his throat is irritated by a bug bite, Hyojong notices, the skin reddened and glaring right beneath the line of his jaw.

"And I don't want to drag you guys into it", he says eventually, finality in his voice despite the low tone, as if this was the thing he'd been wanting to say all along. His fingers drag down his neck in an unconscious movement, catch in his collar and stay there, twisted, while he stares at the ground.

Hyojong gets to his feet. He tries to come up with something helpful to say, something like that he doesn't care and that if Hui and Hyuna kept running, he'd follow the two of them almost anywhere. He's taller than Hui, his brain provides instead. He's so caught up in the realization that he misses the moment Hui straightens his back and sends a jerky nod his way, having composed himself so quickly, as always.

He's at the door before Hyojong can lean down and follow the urge fit his lips over the red spot on his neck.

 

Hyuna opens the door on the second knock. Her hair fans out long and wavy over her shoulders. She raises an eyebrow. "Why are you so wet?“

Hyojong blinks. "I tried to drown myself in the bathtub.“

She regards him with a long, hard stare, eyes unblinking und face blank. Hyojong looks back feeling suddenly small, trying not to wither under her stern gaze. Eventually, she sighs, before grabbing his hand and pulling him into the room.

"I've got something", she says without looking at him, his hand clasped tight in her slim fingers. He follows when she tugs, wordless and obedient. The room is cluttered with stuff the previous occupants must have left behind, but Hyuna moves amidst the mess like she's the one who made it. She steps past the couch, crouches down; he bends his knees to follow. He can smell her shampoo like this, the scent tickling in his nose. (They couldn't be bothered to get more than one sort, so now they all smell the same, Hyuna like Hui like Hyojong.)

"Ah-" She turns to him, a triumphant grin coloring her face. The plastic bag dangling from her fingers looks unspectacular, white and crinkled. She peels his hand away from hers, all business-like, sets the bag on top of the couch and tugs at his collar.

"Get out of the wet clothes, yeah?"

He obeys, his numb fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He only takes off his shirt and keeps on the black tee underneath because his sunburn still stings against rough surfaces.

"Sit down", she orders, gently pushing him towards one of the chairs strewn around the room. All five of her fingertips are burning holes in his chest. He sits down.

She settles down on the couch, reaches into the plastic bag. Somehow, it feels as if he isn't allowed to talk, or to get closer to her. So he stays on his chair watching her roll a joint with expertise, her hair falling in front of her concentrated face.

Her shirt slips open when she gets on her feet. He follows the smooth lines of her black underwear with his eyes. "Is that Hui's shirt?", he asks, a little breathless.

She shrugs out of the thin fabric with ease, flinging it on top of his head. It settles over his face like a cloud. He inhales her scent, his scent.

"Maybe", she says, setting both hands on his thighs. He's grinning despite himself when he pulls the crumpled shirt off his head. His split lip stings. His head is swimming still, from the shock of the cold water hitting his back, soaking him to his bones. His head is swimming more now, with Hyuna caging him in until everything he sees and feels is red and warm.

She cups his jaw and leans in to brush her lips against his mouth in a soft kiss. This time, he closes his eyes and lets himself drown.

-

Hyuna's good at taking shots, shuddering less than him while the alcohol punches red over her face.

Hyuna blushes easily, Hyojong learns. Her skin is pale, airbrushed with freckles and she blushes when she's been sitting in the sun for too long, her skin reddening and settling in a permanent flush across the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

She blushes while sitting on his lap with her hips under his hands and breathing smoke into his mouth. She sits in the car, her cheeks bright, while sneaking glances at Hui next to her in the driver's seat.

He doesn't think Hui knows.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea i know it just took me a whoppin 3 months to churn out a measly 1.5k for this and im sORRY

Hyuna wakes with her head in the clouds. Heaven, at least this twisted form of it, seems to be the weight of Hyojongs arm over her waist and, a level or two above, Hui's breath fanning against the skin of her bare shoulder. Hyuna does not dare to move. For one fragile moment, the world seems absolutely and entirely whole.

-

You can't help who you think of during sex, they say, and when it's not the person you're having sex with, there's something wrong. But that's not the whole truth, is it, Hyuna thinks, and thinks, and thinks of Hui with Hyojong's head between her legs. She runs trembling fingers through his hair, imagines another pair of hands against her thighs. A noise slips from her lips - if you listened closely, it could have been a name, and she freezes up for a mortifying cold second, the syllable hanging in the air like a wisp of smoke, dissolving only when Hyojong sighs against her. Later, she won't remember how it started, just that it did and that at this point she realized they were both doing it. It’s something in the way he touches her, fingers gripping too hard to be meant only for her, something in his expression she recognizes from the way she can sometimes feel his presence flare up behind her in the car, looking up only to graze his stare in the rearview mirror, his eyes trained on a spot next to her, longing and not focused on her at all. Yeah, she thinks, letting her head fall back, one hand on Hyojong’s neck to keep him in place, it is in fact a different deal entirely when she's thinking of Hui, knowing Hyojong is thinking of him too.

(There is a row of smaller rooms adjoining the one Hyuna has claimed as her own, and in one of them is a bed. There isn't much else, a strange oversized vintage lamp and no windows and a bed, and while that should be claustrophobic it’s not, just cozy. And maybe at the time the furniture in this apartment building was purchased twin bed sizes were different than they are today, because when Hyuna pulls Hyojong with her onto the bed and between the covers, there is space for exactly one more person.)

 

The awakening comes in form of a tape.

On the floor they’ve somewhat recklessly claimed theirs (if they can talk about entitlements yet, and they dare to), there is a unit Hyojong has cheekily labelled the lounge, a tiny cramped closet of a room with two ratty couches and old yellow curtains dimming everything down to a dusty half-shade. Each of them have claimed a part of the floor to themselves, one or two units all three of them respect as private ground; as for the lounge they scarcely spend time in there, and if one of them does it’s Hui, watching old tapes he’s found in some corner on another floor, shoulders stiff enough for Hyuna to get the message and leave him alone. Hui finds out how to get the signal working at some point, but the news stay mostly vague about the BOK heist, and so it slips from her mind too, takes a step back with the assurance of new-found ground beneath her feet.

(It’s been too quiet. They’ve gotten too comfortable. Somewhere, in between Hyojong’s hands and Hui’s looks, Hyuna’s been caught in a moment of something dangerously close to carelessness.) The awakening comes in form of a tape.

“Hyuna?“

Hyojong’s hand on her shoulder snaps her out of the daze. She glances sideways, at Hyojong, who’s reached across Hui’s shoulders to reach hers, at Hui, the remote still sitting in his hand and his face turned toward hers. On the small quadratic television screen, the news reporter from KBS continues her elaboration of the new evidence the police have found, the grainy picture doing nothing to distort her impeccable hairdo. Hyuna grips at her own hair, shaggy and frizzy and too long. Her insides feel like a sack of glass shards, cutting into her flesh with every harsh breath she takes. She can’t bring herself to meet neither of their eyes.

Meanwhile, the reporter segues into a case of a busted underground drug ring, and how it might possibly be connected to a series of recently reported car thefts. They’ve got a witness for this too, an impressively smug looking boy, appearing young enough to still be excited enough about being on national TV, even if it’s just as a witness for a potential crime. Next to Hyuna, Hui swears.

“Shit“, he whispers, finally setting the remote down. Hyojong leans forward. “You know him?“, he asks, one eyebrow raised.

Hui looks almost embarrassed. “Yeah“, he says, rubbing a hand over the bridge of his nose, scarring still red and visible. “The car thing- that was me.“ He laughs a little. “The other thing- the busted drug ring- that was me too. I mean I was part of it, sort of, until I busted it.“

Hyojong stares. Hyuna feels her breath shake in her throat, the attention having momentarily shifted from her and what she’s done. Hui rakes his fingers through his hair. “That guy, that’s Jo Jinho, he’s one of them. That he’s on TV for this only means- can only mean that they found out.“

Hyuna feels light-headed. Her chest feels tight, tight, tight with anxiety, for her or for him or for all of them is hard to tell. “They found out it was you?“

Hui drops his hand to his lap, deflating. “Yeah. Looks like it.“

The image on the TV screen flickers back from the reporter’s blinding smile to a gray shot of CCTV footage. The time and date glimmers red while the camera silently records a girl with long hair pushing a man in a salon, the man’s head hitting the counter, dark blood quickly spreading on the floor. The girl looks up, the camera catching her face in the wall-length mirror, freckles stark against pale skin.

“Right. We don’t need to see this again“, Hyojong says loudly, grabbing the remote from the floor and pressing hard on the power button. The screen fades to black. The room snaps into abrupt silence.

It does no good. When Hyuna closes her eyes, she still sees herself on the screen, hands painted red with blood.

 

She finds Hui on the roof.

It’s almost laughable, how the setting sun paints the entire sky red, sharpening out the edges of his silhouette; how unfairly familiar the outline of his body has become in just a little over a week. It unsettles something in her chest, threatening to spill over and drench her whole. The words are pushing against the roof of her mouth, words she fears might do much, much more damage than good.

“Are you gonna jump?“, she asks instead, sounding more casual about the suggestion than she’s feeling. Hui turns and takes a step back from the ledge. He doesn’t look at her. “I’m not Hyojong“, he says. His words are like a slap in the face, aching in too many different places. She wonders if he’s still mad at her because of what happened at the club, if he knows about what her and Hyojong have been doing behind half-closed doors and what it must look like to him if he does. As if he’s sensed her thoughts, he looks up and shakes his head, eyelids heavy.

He’s tired, she realizes, and feels the exhausted droop of his shoulders settle on her own. They all are. There’s only so long you can pretend everything is fine.

(“Do you ever wish we’d kept our phones? Just to, I don’t know, check if- if they reported us missing? If someone is looking for us?“, Hui asks minutes later, voice muffled by the way his face is smushed against her shoulder, the odd vulnerability of his words dampening his voice.

“I don’t think anyone is looking for me“, she replies without feeling, the last lingering traces of hurt long gone. A grainy black-and-white image flashes behind her eyelids. “Besides the police.“

Hui huffs out a small laugh, his breath warm through the thin fabric of her shirt. His shirt. The sun is long gone when she finally dares to say out loud what has been buzzing on her mind since they revealed CCTV tape on the news, words shy and fragile.

“So what do we do now?“

Hui does not move an inch. “I don’t know“, he says quietly. “I don’t know.“)

-

She’s trembling when she opens her eyes again, the remnants of her nightmare still lingering. There’s no trace of Hui left on the bed, the covers neat and cool to her touch. She pulls her hand back and intertwines her fingers with Hyojong’s, pulling his arm closer around her. He shifts, sleepily nuzzling her nape. Hyuna lets him, shivering cold. She wonders if Heaven was a dream.

 


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> queen hyuna came back!! i think she already finished promotions but u should stream her [mv](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9xndFqGJ4k&list=PL_oZil9h7I0vFFmBVHSLppNPIK4HFqxSn&index=3) anyway

They crack on a Thursday.

“You don’t get to decide for me“, Hyuna snaps, voice shrill. Hyojong has never really seen her truly upset before, and he decides that he doesn’t like it, her features blurring together into a cramped, nervous thing. He can feel it in his chest too, in sharp, ugly tugs.

Hui looks worse than he feels, all sorts of complicated emotions camping out on his face. “It’s not just you“, he blurts out, looking immediately like he regrets saying it out loud.

Hyuna huffs, uncomprehending, and leaves the room. Hyojong’s head starts to ache.

 

Breakfast is a peculiar thing. Hyojong has the water pipes working Hyuna’s shower hidden in the walls humming in one ear, bacon in a dirty sauce pan sizzling in the other. Hui taps his fingers against the counter of the grimy little kitchen they found on the ground floor of the building, little excess drops of water sliding from his hair and down his neck. The insides of his exposed forearms are paler than the rest of his arms and Hyojong wants to flick red across the soft skin until it glows alight with all the things he isn’t telling him. Neither of them moves until Hyuna enters the kitchen in a damp cloud of warmth, her presence shifting the awkward shreds of ice in the room around. Both him and Hui jump to save the bacon on the stove, Hui’s fingers wrapping around the panhandle the fraction of a second earlier. Hyojong feels his own hand knock against heated metal, feels his skin prickle hot in his mouth.

“Careful“, Hui says, voice laced with conscientiously stored-away emotion. Hyojong pulls his finger from his lips. The charred skin glares red and shiny from his spit.

They eat burned bacon in silence.

 

Before this, Hyojong is trying hard not to bring it up.

The days following the date they revealed the CCTV tape as additional evidence on national television, officially upgrading an unsolved death to a murder case with a missing prime subject, are quiet. Hyuna keeps mostly to herself, only knocking on Hyojong’s door and invading his space and mind within seconds once, leaving just as fast afterwards. Hui curls even further into himself every time Hyojong enters the room. It leads to Hyojong flinching every time he happens to walk into the lounge or kitchen when Hui is already there, unmoving, seemingly observing a fly on the wall.

“Hey“, he says one time, his body wanting to recoil but his mind unable to leave. Hui looks up at him from his spot on the couch, face worn soft and legs tucked under himself.

Hyojong dares to sit next to him, leaving about an arm’s length of space between them. He isn’t looking at Hui, but his breathing stays even. Hyojong relaxes a little.

“Do you wanna get out for a bit?“, Hui asks, nonchalant about the glaring suddenness of the suggestion. Hyojong’s head snaps up, searching his face for an answer to the unspoken question on his lips. “What…?“

Hui shrugs, inspecting his fingernails. The dark circles under his eyes look like smudged eyeliner. His blank expression shutters when Hyojong leans closer, a fracture running from the crease between his eyebrows down to his chin. Hyojong’s heart does a little victory flutter.

“Okay“, he says, copying Hui’s nonchalance from seconds ago. His hand reaches out to smooth out the faded pink of Hui’s hair. “Let’s go.“

 

Hyuna is remarkably unperturbed when Hui goes to knock on the door of her room, Hyojong hovering one or step behind his back.

“Get out of that“, she says, gesturing vaguely towards Hui’s front. Hui begins unbuttoning his shirt in front of her as if he does this every day. Maybe he does, a traitorous little voice at the back of his head whispers, and Hyojong sort of helplessly accepts the shiver that runs through him at the thought.

“You too“, Hyuna says to him, effectively snapping him out of it. Hyojong shrugs out of the old silk gown he found on the third floor a few days ago, reaches for his collar to pull the ratty tee he’s wearing underneath over his head. He stands next to Hui’s shirtless form, eyes straight ahead while Hyuna disappears into one of the adjoining rooms. She returns with her arms full, unceremoniously dumping several items of clothing on both of them.

“Dawnie will be fine“, she says, eyes grazing his skin, “and they don’t know your face either“, she nods to Hui, “but just in case.“

Hyojong nods and wills himself not to blush at the nickname. He isn’t a hundred percent sure, but he thinks it might be a bedroom product, which isn’t something he wants to think about with Hui’s gaze on the back of his neck like a physical touch.

When Hyuna is done with them, Hui looks normal, easily passing for a student, or any other ordinary person in their twenties, the scratched skin around the bridge of his nose overshadowed by a navy Yankees cap Hyuna seemingly materialized out of thin air. Hyojong knows his face is a little harder to work with, but fiddling with the hem of the dark green flannel she got for him, he thinks he looks okay.

“Thank you“, Hui says to Hyuna, and Hyojong acknowledges the tenderness filling her eyes between two bats of an eyelid, feeling something hot swirling in his chest.

 

Hyojong isn’t really surprised when it dawns on him what Hui has done, but he sort of wishes he’d told him straight away. He knows he’s been mad at him, for reasons beyond the tape and Jo Jinho that he can’t quite fathom. Still.

“Hui“, he says, voice even. Hui doesn’t react, doesn’t slow his strides on the semi-busy street. Hyojong grabs his hand. He tenses, but doesn’t shake him off.

“Hui“, Hyojong repeats, takes a breath. “Does she know?“

Hui blinks, his shoulders sagging. He refuses to meet Hyojong’s eye, searching for something on the ground that isn’t there.

“Know what“, he says, feigning innocence. People are starting to look at them weirdly, two boys hovering too close in a myriad of different contexts. Hyojong tugs at Hui’s hand to get him to move. “Does she know what you’re doing“, he elaborates calmly when they’ve fallen back in step.

The answer lies in the clench of Hui’s jaw, the stubborn jut of his chin. “She’ll know soon“, he says, raising an offbeat eyebrow at Hyojong before letting go of his hand and pushing at the door to one of the shops lining the street. Hyojong watches him buy rows of hard candy, red ginseng and cherry, defenseless.

He tries again, when they step back out on the street, Hui’s demeanor somewhat mollified by the sweet-sharp tang of candy in his mouth. Hui snubs him with a simple suggestion, face carefully blank. “You can leave, if you want“, he says, nothing indicating if he’d mind that at all. Hyojong feels oddly hurt at that.

“Really, you can still get out of this“, Hui continues, “this mess.“ He looks down at his hands, suddenly vulnerable out in the open like they are. “No one would blame you.“

Hyojong stares intently at his shoes, worn by feet other than his, a size too big on him. He’s not equipped to deal with this. He can barely hold himself together on a good day, tightening Hui’s seams seems like too big of a task. And there’s Hyuna, too, the one person in need of mending more than the both of them combined. He takes a deep breath.

“I would“, he says, voice cracking just the tiniest bit. He reaches over to fish a red candy out of Hui’s paper bag, curling his tongue around its sharp edges, walks ahead to not have to see Hui’s reaction.

He feels Hui’s hand grip at his shoulder briefly, fingers clenching tight at the fabric of his shirt for a fleeting second. Hyojong has seen better displays of gratitude in his life, but he’ll take what he gets.

 

(“You don’t get to decide for me“, Hyuna snaps, voice shrill.

Hyojong’s head starts to ache.)

-

He finds them on the roof.

Hui’s forehead is pressed into Hyuna’s shoulder, her arms reaching around his crouched form. He joins them, sits down with his fingers winding into Hyuna’s hair, hand pressing to Hui’s head in a fleeting touch. He feels Hyuna’s breath in Hui’s chest, as if it’s supposed to be like this always.

And maybe it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one or two more to go hahah what even is this anymore


	6. and six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end

Hui has a vision.

When they found the money in the trunk of their car, wads of cash crispy and drenched with promises, Hyuna had laughed. She had laughed and, seized by a sudden outburst of weightless happiness, twirled around the gas station, arms outstretched and feet dancing. Her gown, still smeared with blood, fluttering around her figure. Hui had watched silently, grin etched onto his face and chest on fire.

In his vision, he sees them again, her dancing feet, the thin fabric of something flowery and green wavering around her in sync with his wonky heartbeat. She turns, and her dress flies high. Next to her, perched on what he knows is the hood of their car, is Hyojong, disheveled hair and sharp jaw, his posture relaxed and shoulders at ease. Behind the two of them, there’s ten colonies of stars and a firework painting the sky in all of their colors.

Hui knows it’s a vision because it’s good, feels good, the three of them and the promise on Hyuna’s face when she turns fully and stretches out her hand towards him; Hyojong tilting his head with an angular smile.

He wants it so much it aches.

 

Hyojong is chipper.

He walks around their floor with a spirit previously unseen, noisily colliding with every wall Hui has constructed around himself and his space. He’d be annoyed, but then again it’s Hyojong, and where Hui sees red on the right he also sees it on the left.

To no one’s surprise, it’s Hyuna who takes on the role of the mastermind, thinking of eventualities and drawing cross-connections where Hui sees nothing but clouds of chance. Still, he tries to make up for Hyojong’s frizzy lack of focus by dotting down stray thoughts on a yellowed notepad, fingers gripping tight around the pen whenever his brain filter fails to keep his heart away from the paper. Behind his eyelids, there are fireworks burning bright.

Hyojong is chipper, but then again, this, what they’re preparing, is sort of what he's wanted all along, isn’t it?

 

 _You don’t get to decide for me_ , Hyuna’s voice echoes in his head, his lungs constricting at the sight of the two of them perched on the couch, faces so close their noses are almost brushing. Hyojong’s entire body is completely still, awed maybe, by Hyuna and her smile. The look on her face, in turn, is painfully tender. Hui pretends to be busy with his notepad.

She’d stormed off before he could even attempt to clear the mess in his head, form the incoherent bursts of thoughts into comprehensible words. _It’s not just you_ , is all he had managed, but he doesn’t think either of them understood what he had meant.

His notepad is half run down, the remnants of messily ripped pages crumbling with old glue. With Hyuna and Hyojong in front of him, all he’s managed to do is to phrase a question.

_What would you do to protect the two people you care about most in the world?_

Would you

A) lie to them, about what you’ve really done,

B) agree with them, on a plan that’s bound to fail,

C) swallow your pride and your heart and turn yourself in to the police so they can get away, together-

Hui tears the paper, ripping right through answer C).

 

Hyuna seeks him out the night before, after sunset, his small desk lamp illuminating her pale face and fidgeting hands. She looks upset, and Hui’s throat seizes. She starts talking before he can say anything.

“Are we doing the right thing?“, she asks, voice trembling. Hui forces his fingers to slowly ease their grip around his pen. There’s a wild animal stuck in his chest, furling and unfurling with the restless, panicked urge of having been trapped for too long.

“I don’t want to die“, Hyuna tells the wall behind Hui’s head, eyes blown wide and voice barely above a whisper. Hui takes a tentative step towards her, reaching for her hands. “You won’t“, he says, feeling a little spike of pride when his voice doesn’t crack. She leans into his touch with a small sigh.

“We won’t“, he adds after a short pause, willing himself to sound reassuring. He startles when she puts both her hands on the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. For a long, aching moment he thinks she’s going to kiss him, but she doesn’t, just angles his face down to lean her forehead against his, like she’s done on the roof. Thinking of that night, he feels the ghost of a breath tingle the back of his neck, a hand sliding down his nape and settling between his shoulder blades, warm and firm.

“ _You_ won’t“, Hyuna repeats, having regained her posture. She almost smiles. “You _won’t_.“

Hui lets go of her hands, mirroring her almost-smile with one of his own.

He’s got other plans.

 

Come the next morning, it’s as if someone has flipped a switch.

Hui walks into the kitchen early enough, finding Hyuna on the only chair with four stable legs, feet tucked under herself and hair loose. She’s wearing a long dress, flowing carelessly, a pair of sunglasses propped up on her head. Hyojong is leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on Hui, lazily tonguing at his chipped front tooth.

“What did I miss?“, he asks dumbly, trying not to stare at Hyojong’s mouth. Hyuna lets out a tinkering laugh.

“Breakfast“, she says, getting up from her chair and smacking a kiss on his lips, too short for him to really feel anything. He gapes at her in shock, feeling something vaguely resembling betrayal settle in his gut. She smiles at him as if it’s nothing.

“Eat up“, she says, Hyojong conveniently shoving a filled plate into his hands. “We’ve got a long day ahead.“ Hui is inclined to agree, but this was not how it was supposed to go.

“Guys-“, he chokes out, helpless frustration evident in his voice.

Hyuna isn’t even listening to him, humming a poppy tune under her breath as she twirls past him and out into the hallway.

Hyojong just shrugs. “It’s our last day“, he says, a funny smile dancing on his lips. “Might as well enjoy the hell out of it.“

 

And this is how it goes:

They make the short drive into town right after breakfast, because there’s no use in staying in the old building complex for longer than necessary. They waste away two hours at the arcade (Hyojong somehow manages to win two identical plushies, giving one to each of them, and Hui tries really hard to ignore the flutter in his chest), then order a meal for ten at a restaurant (they end up eating for five, Hyuna moaning that she will never have to eat again in her life - and, well, it is their last day to live, after all.) At three, Hui feels like he’s going to burst, so he buys a bottle of glaring pink rosé that they share in the parking lot, sitting on the sun-heated asphalt ground like children.

“C’mon“, Hyuna says in the afternoon. “Time to get back in the damn car.“

Hui gets into the driver’s seat without looking at either of them, feeling a little more secure behind the wheel, a little less like the traitorous emotion clogging his throat can take over any second - he’s too stubborn to call it hope yet, but it has him buzzing with unreleased tension.

Hyuna gets in beside him, Hyojong in the back, and for a moment it’s like those sweet few days again, the timeless feeling after they found the money but before the police found the tape.

“We’re going through with the plan, yeah?“, he asks, just to make sure. He’s sure, and he knows Hyuna and Hyojong are too, but it’s not like they know everything. The thought has him gritting his teeth.

“Stop thinking“, Hyojong murmurs in his ear, leaning forward from the backseat. “Just let loose.“

 

So that’s what they do.

Hui revs up the motor once he hears the sirens going off a block or two away, ignoring the twinge of fear in his guts. Behind him, Hyojong whoops and and next to him Hyuna smacks his arm, and it helps to keep his foot off the gas despite every atom in his body telling him to get the fuck out before it’s too late.

“Commander Kim speaking“, Hyojong drawls from the backseat, voice almost comically sonorous over the wail of the approaching sirens, his head poking between their headrests, “space police coming in in three, two, one-“

Hui slams his foot down onto the gas pedal the second his vision is cut through by the bluelight, the force of the sudden acceleration pressing them all back into their seats. His heart is beating hard and fast in his chest, but his mind is focused. To the police, their car’s meanderings will hopefully look confusing enough to buy them some time, because he’s got a route to follow and a location in mind.

Until then, they can have some fun.

He actually does drag the police car through a parking lot, and miraculously, Hyuna gets it, face full of sparkling mirth, hand squeezing his thigh. Hui doesn’t even try to fight off his smile.

They’re good at this, he realizes, when Hyojong lowers his window and actually leans out, yelling profanities at the two, no, three police cars following them. Despite everything, Hui can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him in the rear mirror when he leans back into the car.

“You do know you just gave them another face to match?“

Hyojong smiles wide, airstream beating the hair out of his face. “Anything to keep the chase going, yeah?“, he says, not looking apologetic at all. He leans forward, unfastened seatbelt slipping from his arm and out of reach. His voice drops low. “You wanted to reach the sun, remember?“

He leans back, then forward again, appearing to full of energy to stay still for longer than a few seconds, a bruising grin coloring his mouth. “Do it. Aim for the sun.“

Hui glances at Hyuna, who’s been staring straight ahead. She twists an arm back and cards her fingers through Hyojong’s hair, his eyes fluttering closed.

He accelerates to 150.

 

They don’t reach the sun, but Hui doesn’t mind. His entire body and soul and everything in between is light and speeding, and he doesn’t even care that he’s going to die soon.

“Any last words?“, he asks when they’ve come to a stop on the bridge, waiting for the police cars to catch up. His lungs can’t seem to catch his breath, but that’s okay, because he’s never felt alive like this. He isn’t even expecting an answer, but-

“Actually“, Hyojong says, and Hui hears the click and swish of first Hyojong’s and then his own car door opening, before Hyojong bends down and fits his mouth on his.

It effectively punches all the air back into his lungs, his pulse spiking all at once, and Hyojong must feel it under his fingertips because he holds his face close, nails digging into his skin, when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It goes well until he bangs his head against the roof of the car and pulls away, groaning. Hui stares at him helplessly, uncomprehending.

Hyuna is more chaste. Amidst the fog in his head, she places a soft kiss on his neck, on his jaw, and when Hui turns his head, on the still bruised-up skin of his cheek. When he opens his eyes again, she’s smiling, freckles dancing on her face. Her hand worms into his, fingers lacing together almost on their own.

“I-“, Hui says weakly.

“I thought of something“, Hyuna says after she’s pulled Hui out of the car and grabbed Hyojong’s hand, and Hui is dizzy with the feeling of the three of them joined together like this, “and it involves us, together-“

She stops to take a breath, exhales the air in a breathy laugh, and it should be absurd because Hui can hear the sirens coming closer, but it isn’t. It isn’t.

“Hui“, she says, voice so warm he can feel it on his skin, “drop the hero complex thing, yeah? Come with us.“

Hyojong just kisses him again, less rough this time, almost sweet and as if he’s wanted to do it all along. Hui licks the taste of cheap wine off his lips and thinks that he doesn't want to let them go, that yeah, maybe, it’s time to let loose.

(“I love you both“, Hyuna says fiercely, squeezing their hands in hers. Hui’s pulse roars in his ears, the water beneath his feet so, so far away. He looks to his right, taking both of their faces in.

“I love you, too“, he says, simply. Hyojong grins.

“Glad to spend the rest of my life with you“, he says.)

So that’s what they do.

-

“Stop thinking“, Hyojong murmurs in his ear, leaning forward from the backseat, and Hui shivers at the damp warmth of his breath on his skin. “Just let loose.“

Next to him, Hyuna slides the sunglasses up her nose. She shoots both of the boys a dazzling smile before settling in her seat, a determined set to her mouth.

“It’s showtime.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stumbles on screen - no DON'T CLICK AWAY YET - whispers - there's more


	7. encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been two hyuna comebacks and like, 34 pentagon comebacks (cube pls stop overworking the boys tf) since this ot3 was relevant but idc i FINALLY got to wrap this up bye

 

“I love you both“, Hyuna says fiercely, squeezing

their hands in hers. Hui’s pulse roars in his ears, t

he water beneath hisfeet so, so far away. He looks to his right, taking both of their faces in.“I love you, too“, he says, simply. Hyojong grins.“Glad to spend the rest of my life with you“, he says.

They jump on three.

-

  
Here’s the thing.  
  
What would you do if you had a bunch of stolen money, not yours but yours if you claimed it, endless possibilities and nowhere to go? Would you

A) turn yourself in, walk the right path, the one you’ve steered from. Return.

B) stay. Stay where you are, let them catch you if they can.

C) fake your death, take the money and flee the country.

(Live happily ever after, with the only two people you care about in the world.)

(Live happily ever after. Well.)

(That’s what everyone wants, isn’t it?)

 

Hyojong, if he ever were to be asked, wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact moment he fell, the exact moment he tipped over, lost the solid ground and succumbed to nothing but thin air. His body, never really cared for, twists helplessly, squirms and screams silently until the impact slaps Hyuna’s hand away from his.

His vision blurs immediately and he’s not Hui, alright, but he doesn’t need the degree to know that he must have landed funny or something, lungs constricting painfully and limbs refusing to cooperate. His brain is struggling to reconstruct what Hui had said in the parking lot, instructions rattlingoff his lips like little hailstones, or maybe he’d been too distracted by the pink in his cheeks and on his wet mouth, _once you’re in the water you need to- are you even listening?_ And Hyuna, his memory glazed over with a cherry red filter the color of her hair, her smile cunning and sweet, _are you listening, Dawnie?_

“No“, he mumbles, swallowing water, and has half the mind to tack on a faint “sorry“ before he blacks out.

 

It really isn’t all that glamorous, not that Hyuna was expecting it, but still. Shivering and dripping wet, they cower in the dark, ice cold water still plastering hair and clothes to skin. Hui looks frantic, more slapping than patting Hyojong’s face to get his eyes to focus, while whisper-shouting at her about coordinates.

Hyuna’s head hurts.

Hyojong makes a noise, something between a hiccup and a groan and thrashes beneath Hui’s arms, hands coming up to grip at his shoulders and neck. “Fuck“, he says, voice too loud in the dark, “get off me-“

Hui gives him a shove and huffs, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. It’s been the longest night of their lives, and now, with the first grey smudge of dawn at the horizon, Hyuna feels the last bit of fighting spirit drain from her body.

“Oh no, no, not you too-“

She feels hands gripping at her shoulders, sliding over her face. Hui’s face swims in front of her eyes, a pale smudge in waves of darkness all around. Her lips stretch into a smile. “Your face looks funny“, she says, feeling a hysteric laugh bubble up her throat. Somewhere behind Hui, Hyojong starts coughing, shallow and loud.

Hyuna closes her eyes, head spinning. The area around her cheekbones feels bruised, her skin tight and tender. It’s worse when she has her eyes open, so she keeps them closed despite the vertigo.

“How much longer do we have to wait“, she whispers, head dropping forward until it knocks against Hui’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around her.

“Not much“, he says, voice only wavering a bit, “don’t worry.“

  
  
(The night has almost faded when the car finds them. In the fuzzy gray light, Hui’s face is of an ashy pale. Hyojong’s lips are blue, and Hyuna feels the faint urge to bite some life back into them. She doesn’t though, because her vision still feels kind of wonky, and she’s got them both by their hands, fingers laced together like before the jump.

“Finally“, Hyojong rasps when the motor stills and the three of them scramble to their feet, wet sand sticking to their backs and legs.

Inside the car, Jo Jinho pulls Hui into a headlock. “Didn’t know if you’d actually help“, Hui chokes out from beneath his armpit. “Last time I checked you were on the other side."

Jinho grins as he steps on the gas. “Why’d you contact me, then?“

Hui presses his lips together. “I was desperate“, he says finally, avoiding Hyuna’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Hyojong’s head lolls onto her shoulder.

Jinho huffs. “You got lucky, then“, he says.

Hyuna closes her eyes. “We did“, she hears Hui say, voice compressed with something that sounds like hope. Hyuna clutches onto it like a lifeline.

They really did.)

 

-

 

“American drugstores are weird“, Hyojong says a week later, scrunching his nose at all the labels in a language he can only understand in broken pieces. “Why are we here again?“

Hyuna bends down to pick up a tube of toothpaste from the display, dropping it in the basket hanging off Hui’s arm. “ _Because_ “, she says with emphasis, tapping the tip of Hyojong’s nose, “hygiene is important.“

(“I had a vision“, Hui had said earlier, all of their smiles loosened by the ocean breeze. And he’d told them, about fireworks and sunsets in the desert and endless room to breathe. The three of them, together.

“We could rent a car“, Hyuna had said after two beats of stunned silence, spark alight in her eyes already. Both of them had looked at Hyojong, expectant and glowing in the Californian sun. Hyojong had looked back at them, feeling a smile form on his face.)

They gather everything they could need on the road, squinting at labels and slowly filling Hui’s basket, until Hyuna abruptly stops at the hair dye section.

“Are you gonna redye it?“, Hui asks, suddenly sounding nervous. Hyojong looks at the faded color of Hyuna’s hair, dark roots visible over the now faint orange. Hyuna looks pensive for a while, eyeing the rainbow array of colors in front of her.

“Nah“, she says finally, grabbing a brown tube off the shelf. “I was getting sick of red anyway.“

He watches Hyuna pay for everything they bought, pinky finger hooked into the belt loop of her jeans with Hui’s chin resting on his shoulder as they wait in line. Outside, Hui tilts his face up and kisses him deep, right there and just because. Hyuna laughs a little, and when Hui pulls away, she plants a kiss on both of their cheeks. Then she takes Hui’s hand and pulls him to the car, almost skipping with excitement.

Hyojong watches Hui smile and wrap his arms around her, the both of them staggering on their feet in a bubble of laughter. He falls into a light jog to catch up with them, falling into their hug with a grin, thinking of what he’d said before the jump.

The rest of his life. It doesn’t sound so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> #how many fandoms can i add to my works list stay tuned
> 
> edit: i started a new triple h fic! chapter one is up, so go check it out (pls) (ill love u forever)


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